Rebirth
by mashedpots101
Summary: Imagine if Ash/Angela had gotten his/her hands on Ciel after all? AU-ish. No pairing.


Disclaimer: I don't own Kuroshitsuji.

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As I walk along the beach the spray from the incoming waves gently splashes across my untainted, pure, pale akin. I inhale the salty sea air as I hoist my heavy plastic bag higher up my shoulder, momentarily wishing that I had packed lighter. Unfortunately for me, the job I was to do required many ingredients and objects, if I forgot even one of them The Cleansing would become a complete an utter fail. it made my skin crawl to even think of an unclean continuing to remain dirtied never knowing the everlasting peace of being _pure_. I'm glad that The Founder managed to unearth this impure soul before it had completely immersed itself in the hatred that lurked in the Abyss.

I stumbled over a gnarled root as I entered the leafy forest shading the far left side of the Skopelos forest. I have no idea why The Founder made us travel to Greece just for this one boy but I do know one thing and that's that The Founder is always right. After all he was the one who personally erased my Book back when it all begin. Although, I was hoping to actually attend one of my psychology lessons, oh well there will be many more sacrifices on the path I am to take.

When I enter the clearing the others take notice and immediately take their places. East, South, and West. East to spread The Founder's teachings across this earth. South to behead any snakes in our midst, feebly attempting to stop us on the path of _true righteousness. _West, who will in time give up her life so that those who are filthy can finally become _pure_. Finally, there is North. Me. I who communicate directly with The Founder and The Founder's right-hand man. Almost like Hermes that swift-footed messenger god. I am the Trojan horse that fools those who wish to obliterate The Founder. they think I am The Founder when in truth the actual Founder is preparing to strike them dead. I eradicate those who wish to reject what is _pure_ but instead embrace hatred as their bosom buddy.

We, The Reborn, instinctively know what is to happen next. There is no need for words. Our Books are a pure white, untainted by a past ripe with hatred, instead we look forward to a future where all is _pure_. West, the future sacrificial lamb places the current one, that frail looking boy whose veins stand out stark blue against his dreadfully pale skin, onto the limestone altar. I cannot help but notice the irony in that. West is cleansing a dirtied lamb even though West herself. be it in her knowledge or not, is still very much an unclean but never mind that now is not the time to be giggling over such small matters. After all if The Founder wants this foul boy then by all means I will be the one to fulfill his requests no matter how gruesome. What The Founder wants, The Founder gets.

I tie the boy down with freshly spun Yorkshire cotton. East begins to document these happenings both on paper and on the dewy forest floor with the ancient runes. South begins to trace the mark of The Beast ever so slowly onto the boys back with a obsidian dagger, crimson red slowly painting the canvas of his back with sanguine pink steaks. The point is to counter that which is filth with that which is _pure.__ untainted._

"Destroy the unclean. Destroy the impure. Destroy the filth that inhabits this soul." we mummer silently raising our hands in unison. We need not the words that define this week, pathetic, _foul_ race for we do not yoke ourselves with what is of this world.

"Cleanse this tarnished soul that clings to hatred with all its might. Let it rise anew from the ashes, _clean, pure ,__UNTAINTED!_" I croon reverently over and over again in a euphoric voice. I can tell that the end is close when West takes the mottled green flame and gently caresses it against the boys skin, opening a way for The Cleansing to begin. The boy cries out and writhes in agony as the flames engulf him. We step back and silently watch the process take place, jade flames dancing in our eyes.

I breath the heady scent and notice that the flames have slowly started to ease their way up the spectrum towards white. I step forward as the flames waver then part, allowing me to pull this new, untainted being into existence.

"Welcome Brother, he who used to be Ciel Phantomive, to The Reborn. You will be the Hawk. You will watch for, if our efforts do not succeed, the time where these primitive life forms will fully succumb to the filth, the _hatred_. When the time comes you, only you will be the harbinger of death. To wipe out their race before they can corrupt Earth any further." we murmur collectively as we circle around him anticipating the thrill that is to some.

Hawk looks blank, apathetic, a clean slate awaiting instructions. I shall be the one to teach him all there is to know about The Reborn and the Abyss. Yes, I Ashe Landers, son of The Founder.


End file.
